The Real McCoy: A Star Trek One-Shot
by trellyasigma
Summary: "The real McCoy." Aka, the real deal. It wasn't meant to be talking about a specific person or situation. But during the five-year mission, Leonard "Bones" McCoy finds himself in a situation that results in a literal use of the phrase that haunts him for years to come in the form of an obnoxious nickname that will never quite disappear. Rated T for swearing.


Leonard McCoy was having a perfect day until those bastard aliens had to ruin everything. When he woke up, there was no red alert— that was a shock. There'd been a red alert seemingly every morning for the past two weeks. He was so sleep deprived, he was shocked he hadn't fallen asleep at his desk yet. Then again, in the past two and a half years he'd gotten very good at running on fumes for weeks at a time.

Anyway, there was finally no red alert when he woke up. He was able to drink his entire cup of coffee without interruption, and he even was able to eat a replicated scone for breakfast. It was starting to look like the kind of day he'd dreampt about for years.

When he got to the Medical Bay, there wasn't a single patient. Not one. Except for the first week of the mission, there hadn't been a single time that Leonard could remember that he hadn't had a single sick or injured person to tend to. Even Jim had kept his nose out of trouble.

He should have known that it was too good to be true. At about one in the afternoon, the happy and calm doctor decided to take a walk to the Bridge, and see how Jim, Spock, and the others were doing.

When he walked in the door, Jim spun around in his chair and grinned. "Bones! How are you on this wonderfully quiet day?"

Leonard smiled. He actually smiled in a way that was happy, and not sarcastic or terrified or diplomatic. "I'm doin' great, Jim. I feel like a kid on Christmas morning."

The instant those words left his lips, there was a stupendous crash that sent McCoy flying across the bridge into the wall. His head hit the wall with a 'crack', and everything went dark for a moment. When he came to, everyone was in full-on emergency mode.

"Sir, ze hostiles are beaming aboard ze sheep!" cried Chekov.

Jim nodded, and pressed a button on his chair. "Cupcake, get some men down to beaming room stat!"

"Yes, sir." Came the deep voice of Kirk's head security officer.

Jim paused, and turned to Leonard, who was still sitting on the floor, trying to get the world to stop spinning. "You okay, Bones?" He asked in a tone that said clearly he better be okay, because he needed Bones to make sure everything turned out okay.

"Yes, I'm fine." Leonard lied. He actually had a very minor concussion, but it wasn't serious enough to stop him from making sure they weren't all killed, that was for sure.

"Good." Kirk said. "I need you to go with Cupcake, make sure that any casualties are seen to."

Leonard nodded in agreement and stood up with a slight wobble. Seeing Jim's eyes narrow in concern, he smiled tightly. "I hit my head, so I'm a little dizzy, but I'm fine, I promise. Jesus, Jim, you're worse than my Momma." Then he walked steadily off the Bridge and headed down to the Beaming Room, wishing he could have had a quiet day just once.

When Leonard reached the scene where 'Cupcake' and his men were supposed to be fighting the intruders, he was met with a strange sight. Instead of the usual team of Cupcake and the nine officers he had chosen, there were twenty people in the room. None of them were aliens.

Not only were there twenty people, there was an identical copy of each person. Two heads of security were screaming at each other in identical Midwestern accents, mustaches bristling, while eighteen people with only nine faces between them were yelling and fighting each other with flying fists.

The Cupcakes noticed the shell-shocked doctor and headed over to him. "Doctor McCoy!" Said the first one. "Thank God you came. The aliens are shapeshifters, they're trying to trick the captain into killing his own men!"

The second one snarled and lunged at the first. "Don't trust him. He's the imposter! He stole my shape!"

McCoy stood and watched the two fight. Both had the right fighting style, both had the right inflection when they spoke, they even moved the same way when they walked. The illusion was seamless. It would be practically impossible to tell the two apart.

"How did they take your shape?" He asked.

The second one replied first. "They touched our heads. In a couple minutes, they copied our image and our brains. Even I can't tell which of my men is which."

"He's right," said the first, "but he can tell, because he's the alien."

McCoy hesitated. "How many came on the ship?"

The second one paused, and turned to Leonard with a chilling, uncharacteristic smile, and in that moment he knew that this was the false one. "Eleven."

'Eleven?' Leonard thought. 'But only ten are-' He paled as he realized what the alien was implying. Slowly, he turned around, and came face-to-face with the nearly invisible form of the shape-shifter.

Suddenly, a slimy tentacle-like appendage was covering his face, and McCoy felt a cold, icy pain that came from every inch of his being. He could feel it stealing his shape, copying his thoughts and memories so it could imitate him more accurately, and it terrified him.

NO, dammit! He wasn't about to let some tentacle beast steal his shape without a fight! He fought back in his mind, desperately trying to remove the presence stealing his shape and his thoughts. The pain increased ten-fold, and he felt some strange hot substance enter his bloodstream. McCoy's strength left him, and he became practically limp in the creature's grip.

The appendage removed itself, and the pain was instantly gone, leaving McCoy staggering in shock. Before him was— himself. It looked exactly like him in every way, from the scowl on its face to the way it held himself.

The second Cupcake laughed. "Sorry, Doctor McCoy, but our leader had to find a shape that could fool the captain, and you were the best choice."

McCoy wanted to fight the creature, but the toxin in his system continued to weaken him. He stood still as the imposter McCoy stole his comm and clicked the button on the side. "Jim," said the alien in a convincing shaky voice. "You gotta see this."

"What is it, Bones?" Jim responded with a hint of worry.

The alien's eyes glinted evilly. When he spoke, however, it was in the same shaky tone. "Shapeshifters, Jim. It's goddamned shapeshifters." He hung up, and grinned at McCoy. "After the Captain realizes he shot his best friend, then he will be easy to control."

Leonard frowned. Control? But before he could say anything, the aliens (he was assuming) grabbed him and the other true crewmembers and held them in the corner at phaser-point. All of them, McCoy realized, were exhausted from fighting the beasts, and McCoy himself was becoming weaker by the second from the poison.

They were, Leonard thought miserably, fucked.

Jim Kirk felt troubled as he sped down to see Bones. He hadn't heard his best friend sound so fearful in a long time, not since Kahn. But besides that, Jim could have sworn he had heard something in Bones' voice that just wasn't BONES. Something almost sinister.

Kirk shook his head. No. He was just imagining things. Bones was Bones, just like he always was. But he couldn't get rid of that nagging suspicion that things weren't entirely like Bones had said they were.

When he reached the transport room, the first thing he heard was "Jim!" spoken by Bones. What disturbed him, however, was the fact that two voices, identical in every way except the emotion contained in the word, had spoken– not one. There was a Leonard McCoy in front of him, a communicator in hand, looking relieved. But there was another McCoy staring at him from the corner, looking desperate. This second McCoy had spoken with a plea, while the first had been all business.

Both could have come from the real Bones.

"We think we've got all the fake ones in the corner," said the McCoy holding the communicator, "but there's a possibility some of them are the real ones. That's why we haven't shot anyone yet."

"Yet?" Jim said suspiciously. Bones didn't consider talking about shooting people often.

Something flickered in the doctor's eyes. "I don't wanna shoot 'em myself, so we're having you pick out which ones are real, and which ones are fake. You know, because you'd know best."

Bones wanted him to decide which of his crewmembers were the real, human ones, and tell those real ones to kill the false? Jim felt himself grow pale. This was not something he should be doing. He wasn't good at things like this. "I… Maybe we should get Spock, instead. He'd… I dunno… Be better at this."

"The hobgoblin?" said the McCoy in the corner unexpectedly. His voice was weak and shaky, not like Bones at all. Jim felt a surge of suspicion toward this second Bones. "Don't make me laugh. I'd rather have YOU shoot me, thank you very much."

Jim shook his head, trying to clear it. It was so disconcerting to have two Bones in the same room. 'No,' said a little voice, 'there's only one Bones. One of them's a fake.'

"How do I know YOU are the real one?" he said finally, glaring at the Doctor McCoy holding the communicator. "How do I know that you aren't lying through your teeth, and that the other one is real?"

The McCoy in the corner grinned slowly, a hint of hope coming into his face. "There ya go, Jim." He said. A hint of strength came to his voice, and Jim suddenly worried that perhaps THIS ONE was the real one. "Now you've got a chance."

Suddenly, he couldn't take the pressure. He turned around and kicked the wall, making everyone jump. "DAMN IT, Bones, I can't DO THIS!" He turned around and looked from one doctor to the other. "I could be sentencing you— the REAL you— to your DEATH!"

"Jim," said the one with the communicator. "I have full confidence that you can do this."

"No," Jim said, rubbing his sweaty palms on his golden shirt. "I can't. I'll choose wrong, and then I'll kill you, and— Jesus, Bones, which ever one of you that is, I can't do that!"

"Jim-" said the corner McCoy gently, taking a shaky step forward. The phasers stiffened in warning, and he froze and took the step back, leaning against the wall with a grunt as some sort of wave of pain struck through him.

Kirk frowned in suspicion. "What's wrong with you?"

McCoy laughed with a grunt. "When they stole my form they injected some sort of venom. I think when you get too close to them, it causes pain. I don't really know for sure- I'm a doctor, dammit, not a xenobiologist!"

It was so BONES that in that moment Jim was convinced this was the real one. "Jim, you aren't really going to believe him, are you?" Said the other McCoy, the one who had apparently commanded to have a random number of crew and aliens held at gunpoint.

"You two, stand next to each other." Jim commanded, pointing at both of the McCoys.

They blinked, and moved close to each other. For a moment, everything was normal, save for a twitch in the eye of the doctor on the left. Then, that same Bones howled in pain and started to collapse. Jim caught him, a hint of panic in his throat. "Are you okay?"

"'M… fine. I'm fine. I just… it hurts to be near him." Panted Leonard, voice tight with some inner pain that was obviously horrible.

"Him?"

"The one who stole my shape. The one who copied my mind so he could pull off a flawless illusion. He put his sucker on my face and he gave me some sort of venom… It hurt so much, Jim." Bones' voice was getting weaker, and his eyes were fluttering.

Jim stared at the other McCoy, who was watching the fallen man with an expression of satisfaction. In that moment, he knew.

James Kirk drew his phaser and shot the imposter through the heart, then the head. It collapsed, and as its bluish blood ran on the ground, it slowly faded back into its normal translucent form, sucker-like tentacles protruding from the face.

As soon as the alien breathed its last, half of the people in the room— mainly the ones holding the people in the corner at gun point— ran for the transporter across the room. "STOP THEM!" Jim shouted frantically, but the moment they touched the surface of the pad, they vanished in a sparkle of light.

Kirk glanced down at the unconscious form of Bones, HIS Bones, and motioned to a couple of the shaken security officers. "Any idea why you're awake and he's not?"

"He struggled." Said the head of security in the corner. "The rest of us gave in right away, but he kept on fighting, so they had to sting him to get into his head and get his memories."

Despite himself, Kirk smiled. Of course Bones wouldn't give in so easily. The Southern doctor was the most stubborn man he knew, and to be damned if his friend was going to give in to something like that that easily. Then his smile faded. He didn't know what this toxin was doing to Bones' system. He needed medical attention NOW.

"Chapel!" He called into his communicator. "Get down here NOW, Bones is hurt. Some sort of towin from the aliens."

There was a crackle, and then she spoke. "I'll be down in a minute, Captain. Make sure he keeps breathing until I get there."

Jim hung up and got down on his knees, before gently reposioning Bones into a more comfortable position. To Kirk's relief, he was breathing steadily, and his pulse appeared strong. Hopefully, he thought, Bones would be okay when he woke up.

Christine Chapel ran into the room. As soon as she saw her unconscious boss on the ground, she whipped out her tricorder and performed a scan. "The toxin isn't deadly. It's supposed to incapacitate the prey for a couple of days, so the alien can get the job done and kill the victim without too much trouble. If you try to escape or stand too near the one taking your shape, it causes extreme pain."

"But he'll be alright?" Jim said, staring down at his best friend with an uneasy feeling. It was always HIM that was injured or unconscious, not Bones.

Chapel smiled, and put her hand on her captain's shoulder. "He'll sleep for a day or two, and when he wakes up he probably won't remember much, but yeah. He'll be okay."

Jim nodded, and stood up. "I need to report back to the bridge." He said awkwardly. "Fill in Spock. You'll— you'll tell me when he wakes up, right?"

"Of course."

When McCoy woke up, he felt extremely disoriented. His memories flashed about him in a confusing daze, and he couldn't quite remember why his body ached so goddamn much. He remembered a tentacle over his face— seeing himself, but not really himself— pain— Jim— more horrible pain— and then nothing.

He opened his eyes, and winced at the blinding lights of Med Bay. It had been a while since he had been a patient, McCoy noted. He supposed he was overdue for a visit. Suddenly, he noticed the hunger nawing at his stomach. How long had he been out? One day? Two? Maybe even three?

He was driven from his thoughts by the sound of a metal tray being set down on a side table. He glanced over and saw Christine, who was smirking slightly. "The Sleeping Beauty awakes! I assume you're hungry, you've been asleep for two days."

"Two days? What the hell happened? I remember a little, but it doesn't make any sense." McCoy said, eyebrows creased in concentration as he tried to remember. A spike of pain shot through his head, and he winced.

"Two words." Christine said dryly as she handed him a cup of soup to drink. "Shape shifters."

He took a drink of the soup, wiped his mouth, and nodded. "Ah. That would explain why I thought I saw a physical version of myself."

"Oh, he was there, alright. The little bitch tried to get the Captain to shoot you so he could gain control of the ship. Luckily, he's not an idiot, and shot the wrong one in the face." She said cheerfully, handing him a roll to go with the soup.

McCoy took a bite out of it hungrily, and groaned. "God, I'm starving. I hope you have more food." She rolled her eyes and set the entire tray on his lap. "I also hope you told Jim that I woke up, because knowing him, he'll be all antsy until he knows for sure I'm okay."

"Of course I told him." Chapel scoffed. "He's already heading down. He'll be here any mo—"

Jim burst into the room, grinning widely and shouting "BONES!" at the top of his lungs.

"Hello, Jim. Glad you could make it." McCoy said sarcastically. "I was DEFINITELY missing your loud and obnoxious presence."

The captain plopped down next to his bedside cheerfully. "Oh, stop lying, Bones, I know you love me." He paused. "Has Chapel filled you in yet?"

McCoy nodded. "Shape shifters. But I hardly remember a thing."

Disappointment filled his best friend's face. "But Bones! Yeah, it was terrifying at the time, but now I have an excuse to call y—"

"Call me what." His eyes were narrowed, and he expected Jim to recoil. He did not.

"I can say that I knew you were the REAL MCCOY. Get it? The Real McCoy?!" Jim burst out into hysterical laughter. McCoy simply winced at the horrible pun. "I've wanted to call you that ever since I met you, and now I FINALLY can!"

Leonard McCoy sighed, and began to eat once more. He would let Jim have his fun for now, but a good hypospray or two after he got out of this goddamned bed would shut him up. NO ONE was going to call him "the Real McCoy" if he could help it.

 **Hey, guys, Author here!**

 **So I know I said this little one shot wouldn't be posted for a while, but I had a burst of inspiration, so here it is!**

 **I think personally that it kinda sucks, but oh well.**

 **Anyway, enjoy this little ditty in the space between next posted chapters of Bourbon and Vodka.**

 **Review/Fave/Follow/Whatever**

 **Love you all!**

 **Trellya**


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